


Deal With The Devil

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: The Alpha Series [40]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Blood Drinking, Bondage, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike makes a deal to save Drusilla's life which leads him back to Sunnydale to help the Slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal With The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on January 12, 2002 as my reason for why Spike returned to Sunnydale for Season 4. I went with the theory that because Angel survived the ritual to restore Drusilla, it wasn't a permanent cure. And we have first person but PRESENT tense, yay.

Oh fuck...this can't be happening...

She's...she's...

"Spike?"

He thought he'd never hear Drusilla's voice that weak again, he...prayed he never would.

She's sprawled on their bed, pale and shivering in the equatorial heat. She wanted to visit Columbia, taste cocaine laden blood from the drug lords.

But, everything went to shit almost immediately.

Within a day of their arrival in the remote village, the shaking began, the pallor. Her appetite fled, her desire for killing and fucking going with it. She rose from their bed that night to hunt and her legs gave out, sending her crumpling to the floor.

His broken rose.

He's seen the progression before, but this time it's come on so fast. A week has passed and she's at the point she was right before the restoration ritual. She can't stand without support, can barely talk, hasn't eaten in days.

She's dying...

*****

An hour later, Spike sits on the bed beside her, one of her frail hands cradled in his. She's asleep, but her dreams make her restless. Her body twitches, her lips turn down in a frown, and she whimpers every few minutes.

It's killing him...

When he realized that something had gone wrong with the spell, he called one of his former minions, sent him to the burned out factory to find the book and the key. Both were gone, most likely ash. After a night of drinking and tearing up the local bar, Spike spent two days wracking his brain, trying to remember the details of the ritual.

Did they miss something?

Or is it the fact that Angelus didn't die?

Drusilla had seemed fully recovered...

Eighteen months. They were given eighteen months of her healthy and deadly and wonderful and now...

A sob breaks from him and he raises their joined hands to his lips, pressing a heartbroken kiss on her pale knuckles.

"Please don't leave me, Dru."

Her eyes flutter open and she tries to smile at him, but she's so weak even those muscles fail. Her voice is a dry whisper of air as she calls his name. "Everything's fading, Spike..."

"No," he yells, pulling his hand free to jump up and pace. His body needs to move as he rants to every demonic and angelic god he can think of, until finally, he falls to his knees at the end of her bed and buries his tears in the quilt that covers her.

"Please...I'll do anything..." is his final plea as exhaustion overwhelms him.

*****

Spike dreams of white Grecian columns, glittery figures in robes, voices that he does not hear with his ears. He's scolded and mocked until he begins to weep. Falling to his knees, he begs brokenly for her life.

"And why should we save a monster?" a voice whispers from so far above him.

"What will you give us in return?" another one murmurs.

"Anything," he offers. "My life."

"We have no need for that," comes the scoffing reply from both voices.

"I love her," he begs again. "She is everything to me. I...please, I need her."

"You...love her?" There's a hint of interest in the voice. "A soulless creature?"

"I have a heart."

"Unheard of."

"My love is real."

Silence falls and a light begins to grow before Spike. He blinks hastily and shields his eyes, then lowers his head, prostrating himself.

"Please," he begs one final time, a tiny, pathetic cry of need.

And then there's a voice in his head, laying it all out for him, what he must do to save her.

He protests--it's unnatural, of course he protests--but the voice insists, reverberating in his head until Spike crushes his hands over his ears and curls into a ball on the white marble floor.

"Okay," he sobs. "I agree. Just save her."

"We are pleased. A warrior of the night shall fight for the light."

"For selfish reasons."

"In the end, it will not matter."

The arguing voices fade slowly taking with them the light.

Spike opens his eyes, blinking and feeling the wetness on his lashes from tears. There's an ache in his heart and he gasps softly, massaging his chest.

"Spike?" she calls from the bed. A light is switched on and he lifts his head, blinking at her.

Drusilla sits up, cocking her head, a puzzled look on her face. "The night is half over. Why am I still abed?"

"Dru?" he chokes out, stumbling to his feet.

Bounding from the bed, she flings herself against him. "Shall we hunt while the moon is high, my love?"

"Are you...how do you..." He cuts off both questions, cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her eyes sparkle up at him with mischief, and relief floods him. "Dru, you're...beautiful."

She grins. "Of course I am." Spinning from him, she pulls her nightgown over her head and replaces it with a long red native skirt and black camisole.

Spike watches her like a hawk, trying to see if this is just a momentary remission or the real thing, as something niggles at the back of his brain. As she turns to him, holding out her hand to him, he dismisses all concerns, just so happy she's well, and takes her hand.

Together, they dash into the night to hunt and feed.

*****

Lighting a cigarette, Spike leans against the side of a house and watches Drusilla feeding on her third victim of the night. As the old woman falls dead to the ground, his lover turns and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth.

Frowning, she asks, "Why does it feel like I haven't hunted in days, Spike?"

A shiver goes through him, and it all comes back. The dream.

That...wasn't a dream.

He mumbles something that seems to satisfy her, then stares after her as she skips down the deserted street. Horror slowly fills him as he remembers his deal with those voices, with what must be the Powers that Be whom all demons avoid.

Why did they do it? Why save Drusilla for any reason? Out of perversity? Or did his devotion truly touch him?

Or does the Slayer need that much help that even a demon will do?

*****

Spike waits until the next night to tell Drusilla.

She doesn't take it well.

Absently he scratches at a healing claw mark on one shoulder, then pulls their suitcases out from under the bed. As he methodically packs their clothing and other belongings, he tunes out her whimpers.

Wearing only the tattered remains of her nightgown, Drusilla squirms against the wall, chained face first and on her toes by manacles set high in the stucco. She begs him to let her go, to punish her, to fuck her.

Spike ignores her and keeps packing.

When the first cases are full, he dresses and leaves the house to find a phone and make a call he's been dreading.

"Angel?"

To Spike's amazement, Angel listens without interruption, without any diatribes, and, even separated by thousands of miles, Spike can sense his sire's acceptance.

"Do you believe me, Sire?"

"If it had been for any other reason, no. But, for Dru...you'd sacrifice the world or even your own life, as I well know." The irony escapes neither vampire. Angel continues, "I'll phone Giles and explain it all to him. They will be reluctant, at best."

"I know," Spike replies tiredly. "I'll make them believe me somehow. I...They'll take her from me. I can't handle that, Angel."

"I know, Spike. I've always known."

Spike can almost see the tender smile on Angel's face, and familial devotion flows through him. Tears fill his eyes and he whispers his thanks.

*****

Returning to the house near dawn, Spike pulls off his clothes and collapses onto the bed in exhaustion. He didn't sleep at all that day, too worried about Drusilla's reaction, too concerned that Angel would never believe him.

"Spike?" Drusilla whimpers. "I'm sorry. Please punish me."

Pulling the pillow over his head, Spike forces himself to sleep.

*****

The next night is filled with more packing and loading the car. To escape her cries and pleadings, he spends several hours in the local bar drinking tequila and chain smoking.

On his way home, he snags a piglet from a sty and feeds on animal blood. It's filling, but unsatisfying.

But, he can't feed on unwilling humans. That's against the rules. He hopes that the Powers forgive him his one lapse when he didn't actually remember their deal.

The blood mixes poorly with the alcohol, and by the time he reaches their secluded house, he's angry and drunk and a bit nauseous.

When Drusilla whimpers his name on his entry into their bedroom, he snarls and jerks his pants down. Wrapping his hand around his limp flesh, he brings himself to erection, then fucks her from behind, shoving her against the wall, pounding into her until she cries in need and he comes in unsatisfactory pumps.

Then he falls onto the bed and silently cries himself to sleep.

*****

Spike awakens sometime during the day and dashes for the toilet.

It takes a lot for a vampire to vomit.

As he crouches over the bowl, spewing up his guts, he lets the self-disgust and anger wash over him. He's angry at Drusilla for being the reason he's going to have to betray his own kind, and angry at himself for blaming her.

His love for her, the only thing that's kept him going too many times, has been his downfall. He doesn't want to see it that way, because he's afraid that if he keeps blaming her, he'll reach a point where he no longer loves her.

And then it will all have been for nothing.

He can't let that happen.

Straightening, he rinses out his mouth and pads into the other room. Drusilla's asleep, slumped in the manacles, her head turned so that only one cheek rests against the cool wall. Gently he reaches around her waist and hugs her to him.

"I love you, Dru," he whispers, meaning it, and praying he always will.

"Um...Spike," she murmurs in her sleep.

His hand slides lower, between her legs, and as she begins to squirm, he makes love to her, building his pleasure with slow, gentle thrusts. He kisses her shoulders and neck, murmuring his love to her over and over, until she awakens and climaxes with a surprised cry that sends him over the edge.

Leaning against her, he places a kiss on her cheek, then closes his eyes and holds her.

"Do we leave for home soon?" she asks at some point.

"You'll go willingly?"

"Yes, my Spike. I will do whatever you say," she replies demurely, bowing her head and giving him her neck.

Sighing softly, Spike morphs and bites her, claiming her for the thousandth time, earning her obedience in his domination of her yet again.

*****

Night falls again and Spike rises from the bed, stretching. Opening the shutters, he gazes at the moon, then straightens his spine and resolve and turns away to dress. Once fully clothed, he lays out her dress and shoes, then walks over to the wall.

Drusilla rests weakly against it, exhausted and hungry, yet totally submissive.

He left her on the wall even after her surrender to make a point, and she got it. When he unchains her, she bows her head and shuffles to the bathroom as he directs. A few minutes later, clean, her hair brushed, she dresses, her eyes still on the floor, then follows him to the car.

He can hear her stomach growling, but she makes no protest as he speeds out of the village, heading roughly North. When they reach a larger town, he finds a clinic and breaks in, stealing several bags of blood. There's a cooler full of ice on the backseat and he stashes all but two there.

Drusilla drinks hers daintily, then folds the bag into a neat square and hands it to him for disposal, before folding her hands on her lap in much the same manner.

He wonders how long her docility will last.

Hopefully until they reach Sunnydale.

*****

They spend the days in cheap motels, making love in silence until they fall asleep. Waking at sunset, they feed on bagged blood and once on cows blood from a butcher. Drusilla never questions why they're not hunting, but slowly she begins to look around, watching as they speed down highways and dirt roads. Her eyes raise to his and he can see the questions begin to form.

They cross the border into the United States on fake passports, and she finally asks him one of probably a hundred questions.

"Will we live with Daddy?"

"Angel's no longer in Sunnydale. He's in L.A.," Spike replies shortly, merging with the traffic out of Mexico.

"...Oh. Is that why you're helping the nasty Slayer? Because Daddy told you to?"

"...No." Spike doesn't look at her. He doesn't want her to know the real reason, because he knows that she will blame herself, and he can't deal with that. He's still amazed that she doesn't' remember being ill.

"Why then?"

"It's my business, Drusilla."

She cringes at the tone in his voice and lapses into silence, hugging one of her dolls to her. "Yes, sir."

Spike cringes even more. He needs her submissive, but he hates it.

This is going to be hell.

*****

As they swing around to the North of Los Angeles, she speaks again, her voice soft and unsure. "Where will we live?"

Spike shrugs. He hasn't given that much thought. "Dunno. A factory or a crypt or something."

"What about the mansion?"

"I'll live in the sewers before I go back there," he snaps. Angel offered it to him, but...he can't go back there.

Drusilla makes a face. She doesn't' like the sewers. But, she doesn't respond, just begins to comb her fingers through her doll's hair.

*****

On entering Sunnydale, Spike gleefully runs over the 'Welcome' sign, which makes Drusilla laugh. Touched deeply by the sound of her joy, he smiles at her and reaches for her hand.

"We'll make this work, Dru."

"As long as you love me, Spike, everything will be fine." Smiling back at him, she cuddles against his side.

Wrapping his arm around her, Spike turns towards the Watcher's house, and nods slowly in agreement.

Drusilla's right. With love...anything is possible.

Even fighting alongside the bitch of a Slayer and being a goody two shoes.

End


End file.
